


Killing Time

by perplexed (orphan_account)



Category: Smosh
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/perplexed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you believe in love at first sight?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killing Time

**Author's Note:**

> well-ok-then on tumblr said: coffee shop. can never have too many coffee shop fics, right?
> 
> So I wrote a coffee shop drabble, enjoy!

If there was one thing Ian hated, it was autumn. Everything at work spelled of pumpkin and he hated it - even he ended up smelling like a damn pumpkin most days and that was the worst part of it. The season would have been fine were it not for everyone’s obsession with pumpkins, he grumpily thought as he wiped the counter down, fighting the temptation to clock off work early and leave his boss to deal with the after six rush they got as people left work and came to pick up coffee before heading home.

 

As soon as the rush started, Ian regretted not going home when he had the chance to. As Friday closed in every week, the store got busier and busier as more people decided to treat themselves or a co-worker to coffee and cake. He’d seen more romances bloom over the past year than he cared to think about, more couples getting together and even some breaking up, and while he was (mostly) content to be alone he did sometimes wonder if he was missing out on anything by not slipping his number to the few women who flirted with him and batted their eyelashes.

 

Ian was glad once the clock hit seven, dutifully cleaning off the coffee machine and hanging his apron up as he prepared to leave and lock up, since his boss had left that to him. It was like she knew he didn’t have anything in particular to get home for excluding maybe some leftovers and a few games of Halo before he went to bed. He was walking to the door when someone all but barged in from the street, breathless with his tie skewed to the side. Ian raised an eyebrow but sighed quietly and wandered back behind the counter. If his boss knew he’d turned a customer away, she’d have been furious at him and the last thing he needed was to get fired or to get his wages or hours cut.

 

“What can I get for you?” Ian asked, not bothering to don his apron or name tag again. He just hoped no one else made a beeline for the store while he finished up this order.

“Just a black coffee, please,” the stranger replied. He was the stereotype of ‘tall, dark and handsome’, and Ian thought for a moment about whether he wanted to be this guy or date him. In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, or maybe it was stupidity, he did the cliche and wrote his phone number on the take out cup. Worst case was he heard nothing, best case he maybe got a date out of it, Ian reasoned as he looked at the cup and thought about throwing it away for a long moment.

“You, uh… You gonna give me my coffee?” The stranger spoke up, and when Ian looked at him, he was grinning. “You seem attached to the cup.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I uh. Yeah.” Ian shook his head, “It’s been a long day,” he explained, sheepishly handing the cup over. He watched the stranger leave without so much as glancing at Ian’s number scrawled messy on the side of the cup.

 

\---------

 

It was cold in Ian’s apartment when he got home. There was no point wasting money on heating when he had other bills to pay as well. He kicked his shoes off and locked the door behind him. An hour after work and he was finally home - he loved walking but not when he’d been at work all day. Ian shivered and declined to get changed out of his clothes. He stank of coffee, and of goddamn pumpkin too, but he was relatively warm and getting changed might ruin that for the rest of the night. He walked to his small kitchenette and glanced in cupboards and the refrigerator before settling on a tin of soup. At least it was better than ordering pizza again, Ian figured, glancing down at himself and the soft padding that had grown around his middle from too much junk food. It was cheap though, and filling, and it was better than all but starving.

 

Ian half-heartedly ate his soup and settled down on his chair, found on the side of the road it was hardly an Italian leather recliner, but it was good enough for Ian and beat sitting on the floor or eating in bed. He was poor, but for the most part he was happy, though some companionship besides the few times a year he saw his friends from back home in Sacramento would have been nice, Ian thought as he picked up his laptop and tried to find something interesting on Netflix to hold his attention.

 

Yet, every time he thought he’d found something, he kept wondering about that stranger, about whether or not he’d get a text or a phone call. Realistically Ian knew that the stranger probably was creeped out by it and not flattered, but part of him really wanted to get a text just saying hi, or maybe more. Stranger things had happened but he tried not to hold his breath. Ian wondered why he was so hung up on it and, shaking his head, decided it was time for an early shower and then bed.

 

\---------

 

Ian hadn’t expected to be woken up by a text message at turned one in the morning, especially not one that simply said, ‘I just found my phone, sorry! What’s your name?’

 

It took him a few moments to realise what was happening, who was texting him, and why, but when he did, he grinned. Maybe this autumn wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

 


End file.
